


i raised myself, my legs were weak (i prayed my mind be good to me)

by PeachyKeener



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Good Dad Tony Stark, Hurt Harley Keener, ITS NOT FINISHED, M/M, Peter doesnt know whats going on, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Tony Stark is a Good Dad, and how i coped, but i cant write healing rn, but thats okay, harley gets hurt, he will eventually, impled rape off screen, implied rape, is heavily based off what happened to me, so im gonna post what i can and heal later, this is a vent fic, this is a vent fic please dont read if youre not comfortable with that, this like, trigger warning: rape, will inevitabbly post a chapter two with harley slowly healing, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 16:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20910521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyKeener/pseuds/PeachyKeener
Summary: He didn’t remember what happened when he woke up.He didn’t remember much of the night before he woke up. Just the pounding in his head. Just how sick he felt. How his skin felt. How every single movement hurt. How there was someone next to him.That’s when he really truly remembered.It rushed back to him, screaming into every part of his soul. Burning his senses with dread and the feeling of god no, please, god no. He remembers what happened next, the quick movements that hurt to make, rushing to the toilet and throwing up. His hands were shaking, bad.





	i raised myself, my legs were weak (i prayed my mind be good to me)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a vent fic. itll have a happy ending. someday.

He didn’t remember what happened when he woke up. 

He didn’t remember much of the night before he woke up. Just the pounding in his head. Just how sick he felt. How his skin felt. How every single movement hurt. How there was someone next to him. 

That’s when he really truly remembered. 

It rushed back to him, screaming into every part of his soul. Burning his senses with dread and the feeling of god no, please, god no. He remembers what happened next, the quick movements that hurt to make, rushing to the toilet and throwing up. His hands were shaking, bad. 

He doesn’t know who he told about it. He just remembers the reaction and the sinking feeling in his gut. No one believed him.

He left Rosehill that day. He got to New York that night.  
  


  
  


Tony Stark knew something was wrong when Harley showed up at his doorstep. 

Harley hated coming anywhere unannounced, let alone uninvited. He was a quiet kid in that regard-always asking if it was actually okay for him to be in Stark Tower, etc, etc. Harley didn’t like doing much uninvited. Once he felt comfortable, he could be a real devil, but that was when he was comfortable. Southern hospitality, however, had been beaten into him since the day he was born, and he preferred politeness to anything else he could do. 

So it was wrong when Harley showed up with nothing to show for it besides a shaking that rattled Tony to the core. Harley Keener never looked so cold, frightened, and upset than he did in that moment in the elevator of Stark Tower. 

What made the whole thing worse is that Harley looked on the verge of collapse. His usually neat curly hair was mussed up and looked like someone had been running their hand through it, tearing at it. He had bruises, lining up his neck and his arms, and he looked like he had rope burn on his wrist. Harley didn’t look anything like his normal put-together self. He looked horrible. And he was staring at the Avengers-at people he’d known since he was thirteen-as if they would hurt him at any moment. 

“Harley,” Peter was the first one to say something, having known the boy pretty well since they were introduced when Peter was fifteen and Harley was just shy of sixteen, “What-” 

Harley pulled back violently when Peter reached for him, staring at Peter like a hurt animal might stare at its predator. Peter flinched. The team flinched. Tony flinched. 

“Sorry,” Harley whispered, slowly, eyes never leaving Peter’s form, “I don’t-no touching. Please.” 

“Okay, kid,” Tony pulled Peter back slightly, “We won’t touch you. Who knows you’re here?”

“Mom does.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

His eyes flicked to Peter, and then to Tony, and then to the floor, “No.”

“Do you need-do you need medical attention?”

“I-” Harley hesitated hard, and it was a weird sight. The boy usually had so much to say, and said it all, regardless of thoughts, “Yes. I need medical attention.” 

“Will Bruce work or do you need a hospital?”

He glanced at Bruce, who looked embarrassed to be put on the spot, but out of everyone he has the most medical training and experience. Harley blinked at the ground, “Bruce can work for now.”

“Okay.”

Bruce stood. “To the medbay we go.”

Harley just nodded quietly, following Bruce back into the elevator. He watched everyone else with eyes that were too sad and distant to be Harley. 

“What happened?” Seve broke the silence first, “Does anyone know what happened?”

Tony looked at everyone in the room-they were all staring at him with expectant eyes. He knew what they were thinking-Harley and Tony talked a lot. Harley was the closest thing Tony had to a son, and Tony was the closest thing Harley had to a father. Tony deflated. “I don’t know.” 

“Neither do I,” Peter shook his head, staring at his hands, “He hasn’t said anything would be wrong-he hasn’t mentioned anything being wrong-anything the could hurt him-this doesn’t make sense-“ 

“Peter, kid,” Tony sighed, “The best thing we can do for him right now is not panic. We can’t help him if we’re panicking too. Let’s calm down. Bruce will patch him up, and then we’ll talk to him-and hopefully he’ll talk to us.”

“He’s never,” Peter’s eyes looked glassy, “He’s never pulled away from me like that. Never that violently- _ never _ . What do you think could have happened to make him look-to make him look at  _ me _ like that?”

Tony looked at Peter. “Kid, whatever happened, it's not because of you he reacted like that. He’s scared right now, I think he would have reacted to anyone like that.” 

“I just,” Peter hesitated, “He didn’t tell me anything was wrong-or that anyone wanted to hurt him-and we-we usually tell each other…” 

He trailed off, brows furrowed, and glanced at the ground. And Tony felt for him, he really did. If anyone was closer to Harley than Tony was, it was Peter. He was pretty sure they had some weirdly cute, flirtation, “we’re kind of dating but not really,” relationship. To have Harley react like that to  _ Peter _ meant something must be really wrong. Like the world itself must be going insane. 

“What should we do?” Bucky piped up from the couch, “Is there anything we can do?”

“Well…we’d need to actually know what’s wrong. What happened.”

“And we won’t know that until Bruce gets back,” Natasha spoke cooly, trying to seem relaxed, but everyone around her could tell that the sight of Harley so…un-Harley confused her, as if the world had stopped spinning on its axis, “And maybe not even then, if Harley asks him not to tell us.”

“Has anyone called Abbie?” 

Natasha shook her head, “Abbie and Lila are hanging out for the week. She’s been Iowa with Lila and the rest of the Bartons since Friday. I doubt she’s even talked to them.”

“Still,” Steve stood up, moving towards the phones, “It can’t hurt to call her and ask her if she knows what’s up.”

“What if he doesn’t want us to know?”

Everyone paused in their thoughts, turning to look at Peter. Peter glanced up, “If he reacted like that to me reaching out to him, he may not want us to know what happened.”

“Maybe.”

“We’ll have to see.”

So they sat, and they waited. 

  
  


  
  


He whispered what happened as Bruce cleaned the vicious bites on his neck. 

He wouldn’t look Bruce in the eye as he said it, couldn’t look at anything but the ground. How could he look someone in the eye when he told them the worst thing that had ever happened in his life? 

He didn’t cry this time, when he said the word. He thought that maybe he didn’t have any tears left to cry. Maybe he was numb now, and broken just like his body. Maybe he was tired and sagging and didn’t feel safe in his own skin. 

When Bruce finished, he hugged him, tight and solid, and he pretended not to see the green lining Bruce’s skin. 

He thought that maybe, if he felt something, he could become the Hulk too.

  
  


  
  
  


Bruce walked into movie night with a hard stare and angry shaking hands. “I sent Harley to bed.”

“What-”

“Is he okay?”

“What happened?”

“Will he be okay?

“Did he tell you what happened?”

Bruce raised a shaking hand, “Everyone besides Tony, stay here. Tony, come with me.” 

Everyone exchanged glances, and Peter spoke hesitantly, “Can- Is it a good idea for me to see Harley?” 

“I don’t know.” Bruce wouldn’t look Peter in the eye, and Peter was starting to think that it had more to do how Bruce was slightly green rather than something Peter did wrong. “You can check on him, but if he doesn’t want to tell you what’s wrong do  _ not  _ push him. I’m only telling Tony because he’s always Harley’s acting legal guardian in New York.” 

“Wait- hold on,” Steve sat up, brow furrowing deeply. “Was a crime committed? Why can only the legal guardian know?” 

Bruce hesitated hard, and when he looked up, they notice how green he is, and how he’s clenching his jaw, “It’s not my place to tell you. Trust me. You don’t want to know.” 

And he left the room in a stunned silence. Tony scrabbled to follow him, as they made their way to the lab, Bruce looking greener and greener by the second. 

“Bruce,” Tony managed to find his voice as they entered Bruce’s lab space, “What happened?” 

“Do you remember your college years Tony?” 

He blinked, “Yeah, of course I do- they were great. Lots of fun. I hung out with Rhodey and built robots and went to parties and-” 

That’s when it hit him. 

Parties. He went to parties and got smashed constantly. Both literally and figuratively. The ammount of people who had decided that drunk Tony- drunk 16 year old Tony- was a good fuck. Drunk Tony who didn’t  _ want it  _ was a good fuck. 

Bruce looked at him, brow set hard and eyes on fire, “Yeah.” 

“Fuck,” Tony ran a hand down his face, feeling so many emotions he couldn’t decipher which ones to act on,  _ “Fuck!”  _

“You want to know the worst part?” 

_ No.  _ “Tell me.” 

“He told three people,” Bruce growled, looking away from Tony, griping the counter so hard it broke., “And each and every fucking one of them told him that since he was a boy, he couldn’t get raped. He told them! And they all fucking didn’t fucking believe him!” 

“Who.” 

“He didn’t tell me.” 

“I’m gonna find out,” Tony swore, looking at his hands, “I’m going to find out who did that to him, and I’m going to find each and every fucking person that told him they didn’t believe him, and I’m going to fucking-” 

He wanted to throw up. His head was spinning. Too many memories, of how college was, how he had gotten fucked by men larger than him, and even though he wanted to say no, he couldn’t. Maybe it was the alcohol or the roofies. And how many people had he told that said the same shit that Harley had been told. 

The image of what happened to him happening to Harley makes his chest tighten and his eyes sting. He almost physically can’t breath with the thought of Harley having to go through that.

He wonders if that’s why Harley pulled away so harshly from Peter. If the feeling of someone else’s hands on his skin was so present and forceful that he couldn’t take someone else even touching him. If the overwhelming emotions from what happened demanded that no boy, no matter how much he trusted them, would touch him. 

Secretly, he fears the other reason. 

The idea that Harley could now hate himself so much that he thinks if he even let’s something touch him it will make them dirty too. He remembers feeling like that. He remembers how long it took him to stop feeling like that. He can’t imagine what Harley must be going through- except the worst part is that he  _ can.  _ He’s  _ been there.  _ And he knows how much it fucks someone up and over. It took him until he was thirty to feel like he deserved something. 

The other thing pressing against his skull, is the idea that Harley would do exactly what he did to cope. Drinking and more sleeping and drinking and drinking and drinking and letting anything with a heartbeat fuck him because, hey, that’s all he was worth right? The very idea that Harley would be like him makes him feel sick to his stomach, and he doesn’t know how to handle the overwhelming amount of grief and anger that rushes through him. 

“Is he okay- physically?”

“He will be,” Bruce muttered, breathing loudly, clearly trying to calm himself down enough to still be Bruce, “Whoever did it wasn’t gentle or kind about it. He had several bite marks and bruises, but he’ll be okay. He needs to go to a clinic- as much as I don’t want to mortify him, he needs to make sure he’s clean. He said-” Bruce went green again, but this time, Tony thought it was from being sick to his stomach, “He said the the guy who did it didn’t-” 

“Fuck,” Tony wanted to scream because that’s so much  _ worse,  _ “Fuck. Thats- fuck. Does- did he say his mom knew.” 

“She was one of the people that he told.” 

He feels his blood run cold, “And she didn’t-”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m going to kill her,” Tony growls, and he can feel himself almost cry at how angry he is. “I’m going to destroy her- how- fuck- how dare she- fuck!”

“We can’t do anything but help him and support him.” 

“Fuck that, I’ve sat along with Audrey’s neglect of her kids for long enough- I’m suing for full custody instead of just custody during the school year. I’m not letting him go back to a woman who didn’t fucking believe her son-”

“There’s one other thing,” Bruce looks at him, eyes tired and angry, “He doesn’t want Abbie to know. He doesn’t want most people to know. He said I could tell you because you’re his guardian but he doesn’t want anyone else to know.”

“Did you ask if he was willing to see a therapist?”

“No, I was too focused on making sure he was physically okay.”

“I just-” Tony looked away, “I don’t know how to help.”

“You’re the only one in the world that I know of who has been through this. How did you want people to help?”

“I didn’t want help. I wanted someone to believe me.”

  
  


  
  


By the time Peter comes into his room he’s rubbed his skin so raw that he’s bleeding in places, but he really can’t find it in himself to care. He feels so numb, like his head is full of cotton. He wants to sleep but sleep has nightmares, and now that this has happened his afraid to close his eyes to see what awaits him. 

Peter shoots off quiet questions and he doesn’t answer. He thinks if he talks he’ll break himself.

He doesn’t want to breath or think or feel or talk. When Peter finally gets the fact that something has stolen his voice, he quietly asks if he can hold him, and despite his best interest, he nods. 

He closes his eyes and rests his head on Peter’s shoulder, and pretends not to notice that Peter is crying. 

Internally he wonders why the fuck Peter would be crying- this happened to him. He was the disgusting one. He was the damaged one. Why should Peter cry when he can’t even manage to shed any tears anymore. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry. please dont judge this too harshly. itll have a happy ending someday.


End file.
